Hermione had spent the remainder of the night in bouts of fitful sleep. Her mind was churning with the possibilities for young Teddy Lupin, unwelcome nightmares, and sweet memories of his parents. Hermione had adored Remus, there was no other way to describe it, and the friendship they had developed in the background of her waning years at Hogwarts and during the war was illuminated as precious when she had seen his lifeless body next to Tonks in the Great Hall. When the time finally came to feel the grief of all the loss, Remus' was one that struck her deepest, and she promised whatever listening entity there was that she would help watch over little Teddy.
As the earliest rays of light filtered into her flat, she showered and dressed in practiced efficiency. Between periods of sleep, Hermione had gathered her file of notes on Teddy and composed two letters that would need to be sent: one to Harry, asking that he check in on Andromeda and Teddy and that she would be unable to attend Saturday night dinner that evening; the other was to Draco, she briefly explained what she had noted as symptoms in his cousin and requested that when they were both on shift again that they carve out time to discuss it. She looked around her flat once more checking that she had gathered all that she felt she would need and crossed her fingers that it would not be too early drop in unannounced. She stepped into her floo, calling "Thistlebook House".
-xx—
Severus was in his chair of the sitting room, a book in his lap. He was cursed to be an early riser, but he also had not slept much the night before. After his lie in to recover from the late night with Hermione, Severus had busied himself around his home and lab. As the day progressed, he doubted his conviction that Hermione would contact him, and by the time night fell he had become irritable that he had not seen or heard from her. Winky had made herself scarce, as she didn't want to be on the receiving end of his ire. Severus was surprised by how much her absence had upset him. Logically he knew there was no reason why she should have an obligation to be in touch after having spent so many hours together the night before, but he was uncomfortable by the emotions arising in him. So, sleep had eluded him, and he rose before the dawn to claim his chair and a book to help occupy his mind. It hadn't helped.
Severus' eyes scanned the page, reading words but not processing them. His thoughts kept drifting to the face of his former student, a woman that was now a gifted healer and promising potioneer. Hermione was a puzzle for him. He hadn't cared much for her when she was young; her overwhelming desire to be acknowledged within the magical community as an equal was painful to witness. He was irritated by her methods of assimilation: the eagerness to learn went beyond curiosity, it was obsessive. She had also lost favor with him as he watched her friendship with Potter and Weasley deepen. He didn't have much regard for Weasley, having taught the entire family, and felt that the boy was unworthy of the attention she paid him. As for Potter, there was very little explanation needed for Severus' distaste. But he had always believed that Hermione had certain qualities that merited praise-he just could never allow himself to express so. With the exception of Slughorn's terrible Christmas party.
Hermione had wandered into his hiding spot for the evening, and he was not so disassociated with being a human that he couldn't recognize that the young witch had matured greatly when she became of age that fall. He didn't know what to do with the information that she looked almost pretty in her party dress and with her flushed cheeks. Instead, he listened to her ramble her apologies and reasons for disturbing his solitude and paid her the only compliment he could remember bestowing upon her before fleeing. He had not tried not to think back on that night in the time that followed, as he knew the increasing darkness of their world wouldn't be kind to the witch, and Severus would be unable to render aid.
After the fateful events of the Astronomy Tower, Severus shut himself so tightly inside the walls of his occlumency he believed he might never feel again. Then Albus' portrait had reminded him of the task of the sword, and the anger he felt at having to guide Potter to certain death began to twist inside him. Where he had been detached before, now he felt rage at the endgame set in motion and his thoughts drifted to Potter's determined best friend. When he had arrived in the forest, he knew their camp had to be close, he could almost feel the pulse of the magic she had used to place the enchantments. He didn't know to what end his communication with her would provide, but he felt compelled to provide it. Dumbledore had been explicit that he could not tell Potter about the Horcruxes, Hallows, or how they would all ultimately intersect, but he had hoped that with the right nudge, Hermione would begin to unravel the threads.
Then the war had returned to the steps of Hogwarts and she had returned. Severus had spent many nights being awoken from the nightmares of Nagini's attack with the image of soft brown eyes floating behind his own. He didn't like to think of that night, but the horror of it lessened when he had learned that she had returned to ensure that his body would be protected and cared for. It was an unconventional beginning to a blossoming affection for the young woman. Severus had surreptitiously kept tabs on her throughout his rehabilitation and knew when the time was right to reach out to her.
Now, Hermione Granger had once again come into his life, but everything about it was different. Where he once saw an insufferable know-it-all, he saw a reflection of his own desire for knowledge and understanding. The questionable friendships she had been so entangled with as a child had proven to be the foundations for a woman with the capacity to forgive and grow as evidenced by her closeness with Draco Malfoy. And where he had once only briefly, objectively identified her physical maturity, he could now acknowledge unequivocally that she was beautiful. Stunningly so to his eyes, and those thoughts compounded to the growing litany of reasons why he had concluded in the early grey hours that he craved her company and had been bereft without it the previous day.
As if summoned by the longing of his thoughts, the floo activated and Hermione Granger emerged before him. She had a messenger bag slung over one shoulder, a reflection of the casual attire she wore. Jeans, a dark green t-shirt and soft grey knit cardigan sweater, and black boots. Her hair was plaited down her back, still slightly damp from her shower. Severus could note the light scent of her soap, when her eyes locked on his as she stepped forward. "Good morning, Severus. I am sorry for my early arrival, but I needed to see you."
Severus blinked feeling a momentary lapse in his thinking as his senses took her in. He felt the tremendous relief flood him at seeing her again, and a small flutter at the words "needed to see you". He stomped the reactions down, successfully avoiding the feeling of being a lovestruck teenager. Instead he swallowed before replying, "You are welcome here any time, Hermione. How might I be of your service this morning?"
He did not miss the blush that colored her cheeks as she comfortably sat herself in the chair opposite himself. He noted that she composed herself well but needed to avoid eye contact with her for the moment. He was vibrating with anticipation of what could have brought her, unexpectedly, to his home at such an early hour. No matter what he had thought, hoped, or mildly fantasized about, he was not prepared for what came out of her mouth.
"How much do you know about werewolf offspring?" she asked.
A/N: Like it? Love it? As always, drop a comment (I love them so much), follow or favorite. -Archer
